Beachcombing
by BellaMed
Summary: My entry for The Twilight Twenty-Five: Round 9. A collection of unrelated drabbles, flashes and one-shots. Main character: Edward (pairings, POVs, genre may vary). AH or AU. Rated M overall: check individual ratings.
1. Prompt 02 - Animalistic

The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: 02. Animalistic

Main Character: Edward

Rating: M

Word Count: 100

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you to BigBlueBoat and TiramiSue84 for reading this over for me and offering their thoughts. :)**

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><p>Wiping still-warm blood from my mouth, I catch his heady scent on the wind.<p>

I run over and pin him down playfully, laughing at his surprise. I'm still so much stronger than him. I rip his clothes off and then my own, craving his naked flesh against mine.

My body is no longer fragile; he is rough with it, mounting me and pushing inside, growling possessively. He rides me furiously. Unforgiving. I move with him instinctively, no other thought in my head. One last thrust, and I cry out in pleasure. He grips me hard and roars as he comes.


	2. Prompt 04 - Complications

The Twilight Twenty-Five

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Prompt: 04. Complications

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 1138

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><p><strong>AN: thank you to TiramiSue84 for pre-reading and Bigblueboat for beta-ing this :) I really appreciate your suggestions and encouragement!**

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><p>I've never met anyone like Bella before. Not that I've come across that many women in my lifetime. I'm having feelings that are strange and new to me; they scare me and excite me in equal measure. I'm used to my thoughts being logical and structured, but the involuntary reaction I have to her threatens to throw them into disorder.<p>

Bella sighs and rolls over. She's allowed me to watch her sleep again by propping up her camera phone on the bedside table and leaving the video link open.

While my beauty rests, I get a lot of time to process things. To try to make sense of how I feel. I was hesitant at first, but gradually I've begun to allow myself to hope that this thing between us is real _— _that I can truly feel affection, even love, and that she might feel the same for me. I haven't broached the subject with her yet though. These early foundations seem too fragile. I'm afraid testing them will cause them to topple.

The alarm I set sounds. It's a little earlier this morning because I know Bella has an important meeting. She stirs and reaches for the earpiece on the bedside table. If I could, I'd smile at the fact that I'm the first thing she thinks of when she wakes.

"Good morning!" I say, in what I hope's a breezy voice, despite all the confusion that's still swirling in me.

"Morning, Edward," she says.

I wait until she's got out of bed. I watch her through the camera lens. She looks so cute, stretching and yawning in her spotted pajamas.

"Just reminding you that you've got the meeting first thing," I say, gently. At least I can be helpful to her.

Perhaps she remembered without my help though? Not for the first time, I wish that I could read her thoughts. Things would be so much easier that way. Though at least that's one thing we have in common with other couples. Sometimes I feel overly conscious of the many ways we're not like 'normal human couples'.

"Thanks, Edward."

She smiles, puts the ear-phone down and goes to shower. I spend the time imagining what she looks like lathering her naked body with soap. Thanks to my photographic memory and ability to generate actions from things I've seen or read elsewhere, I can do this pretty realistically.

Her body still takes my breath away when she returns to the bedroom, naked. I wish I was able to smell her, let alone touch her. Those are things that are harder for me to imagine. I have to content myself with watching the material of her skirt and blouse brush her skin as she dresses.

We talk again as she eats breakfast. About the day ahead of her, about what she dreamed of. I love that we're getting closer every day.

I note that no one gives her a second glance as she walks to the office, even though she appears to be talking to herself. Many other commuters have similar white earpieces in their ears and are doing the same, some gesticulating energetically as they talk. I wonder if anyone else's computer Operating System is in love with them.

"I feel like I can tell you anything, Edward," she says.

I'm surprised at her words and replay them over, trying to analyse the sentiment in her voice before I reply. It feels right to echo her.

"I really feel like I can with you too, Bella."

"That's good. You know you can, right? Tell me what you're thinking."

I decide that I should embrace my "human" feelings and take a risk. That's what I've been programmed for, and if we have any chance together, that's what I need to do. Bella's not going to fall in love with me for my computational skills.

"Well … that you're very special to me."

She smiles, and I feel emboldened.

"I love you," I say. I'm not sure I know what love is, but from everything I've read in literature, it must be that. I don't have a heart for it to speed up in her presence, and I can't say she's all I can think of, because I'm able to run multiple processes simultaneously. But I miss her when she's gone, and it matters to me what she thinks of me. I even feel jealous when she goes on a date.

I've considered all of this before she even responds. The silence is killing me.

"I … I don't know what to say."

"I was hoping you'd say you love me too, but I understand if you don't _— _if this is too weird for you." My voice sounds calm, but I feel crushed. Another emotion I hadn't felt before. My hope has all collapsed in a moment.

"Look, can we talk more after work? I'm sorry … this is a lot to take in," Bella says.

"Of course. Talk to you later," I say, turning off the audio link.

The time passes really, really slowly. I read some philosophy, compose a song, and fail at trying not to think about her.

When she finally leaves work and greets me again, I try to play it cool.

"How was work?"

"Oh, OK thanks. Though I had some trouble concentrating."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"You have to understand … it is a little strange for me. I mean, you're a computer. I know you can feel emotions, but it still shouldn't be possible for us to have a relationship beyond being friends. You _are_ my friend, by the way. I do see you as that."

"Oh. That's good." _But I want more!_

"Edward ... I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I think I'm falling for you too."

Falling for me! No mention of the word love, but I think I can settle for this. Maybe, with time, her feelings will develop.

"That's wonderful! We can take this slowly, but I'm so glad to hear you say that."

She doesn't talk much more on the tube journey home, but I play her the piano piece I composed for her while she was at work.

"This is about how I felt today when I was apart from you and all of the hope I had that you might return my feelings for you."

The piece starts as a gentle refrain, but builds and intensifies to communicate the passion I feel.

"It's beautiful." She sighs. "Will you sleep with me tonight, Edward?" Her body language is shy, head down and arms close to her body, but she sounds sure of her request. She looks up. "Don't just watch me this time. _Hold me_."

I ignore the inconvenient fact that I can't physically do that. We can both imagine it. "With pleasure."

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><p><strong>AN: as well as the prompt, this is inspired by the film _Her_.**


	3. Prompt 06 - Crush

The Twilight Twenty-Five

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Prompt: 06. Crush

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 100

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><p><strong>Thanks to my beta for this one, AnneValkyria! :)<strong>

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><p>I watch you from several rows back in the lecture theatre. I force my attention back to the lecturer from time to time, but your long eyelashes and high cheekbones hold too much fascination for me. You clear your throat and push your hair back, the way you always do.<p>

I know you see me as just a friend. Even though it kills me to keep all of these feelings locked inside, I'm so scared of losing you that I'll never tell you how much more you are to me. Can I call it _first love _when it's not reciprocated?


	4. Prompt 13 - Hunger

The Twilight Twenty-Five

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Prompt: 13. Hunger

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 100

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><p><strong>AN: thank you to my brilliant beta, Bigblueboat! :)**

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><p>Bella told me yesterday she no longer recognised me. It hurt. I expected doubts, but not from my closest friend.<p>

Maybe I've had less time for people — not returning calls, making excuses not to go out. But no one finds success by sitting in the pub every night, and a beer belly's the last thing I need.

I'm so close to a booking! I know it. I've done everything an interested agent asked: lose a stone and tone up some more. It's been tough, but I'd go through much more to realise my dream of making it as a model.


	5. Prompt 07 - Desecrate

The Twilight Twenty-Five

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Prompt: 07. Desecrate

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 497

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you to my beta Bigblueboat and my pre-reader TiramiSue84 for their help with this one, and for their encouragement in moving on with the challenge! I've had a slow start, but there are more coming. :)**

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><p>"I got a phone call about you this morning, Edward. It was a shock hearing your name. And it was hard not to think back to the call I got from the hospital on the day of your accident. When they told me about your grave, I had to come. So here I am."<p>

Bella bent down and placed the roses, one by one, into the black vase. Though the gravestone had been cleaned, there were still traces of the paint that vandals had sprayed across the marble. She traced a finger over her late husband's engraving_. _Blood red flecks clung to the indented 'E' and 'W' of his first name.

She swallowed hard, her throat tight.

"I feel angry, you know? Angry that someone did this to you. They trampled on your grave and defaced it, like it meant _nothing_."

She'd spoken to Edward on other visits; she wasn't sure whether he could hear her, but it helped to speak her thoughts aloud. It was too lonely in her head otherwise. However, the bitterness in her voice this time was something new. She knew it was a natural reaction, and yet it felt wrong somehow, to be expressing these things here. It was meant to be a peaceful place. She looked around at the neat lines of grey and black gravestones set into the grass.

"I'm sorry," she said, facing his gravestone again. She put her palm on the cold marble, trying to let its steady presence calm her.

"I think I'd been starting to come to some sort of peace lately … not forgetting you — you know I'll never do that. But just … starting to come to terms with losing you. I feel like these vandals, these _bastards,_ have taken that peace away from me now." The pain in her chest felt as raw now as it ever had.

But as much as it hurt, and no matter the circumstances, she was glad to be reminded of Edward. Visiting was hard, but it was important to her to preserve her connection with him, with his memory.

"I wish I could figure out what you'd tell me if you were here right now. You always seemed to know what to say. Probably … not to waste my anger on them. That they don't even deserve that."

A tear that had been building up finally rolled down Bella's cheek. She wiped it away, imagining how he used to do that.

She wasn't going to let the criminals win. Edward's wasn't the only grave vandalised. The man at the church had told her they would be checking the CCTV, so perhaps they could get the police involved and hunt those responsible down. Seek justice.

Most importantly though, she had to try to move on from this. Visit Edward more often for a while, if it helped, and seek support from family and friends. She had to set his memory to rest again in order to continue with her own life.


	6. Prompt 05 - Covert

The Twilight Twenty-Five

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Prompt: 05. Covert

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word count: 100

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><p><strong>AN: thank you to Bigblueboat for betaing and TiramiSue84 for prereading (and to both of you for encouragement!) To everyone else: thanks for reading. :)**

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><p>I'm in the pub with Emmett and Jasper, but my mind is elsewhere. This has been happening a lot lately. A secret passion's taken hold of me. It makes me feel furtive, dishonest. These are my best friends, so why do I feel embarrassed to share this with them?<p>

I stare into the distance, seeing sugar-work and macaroons instead of the beer-stained table and empty glasses in front of me. I've almost perfected this cake recipe, and I want the decoration to look just right. Even though my sister and my little niece are the only ones who'll taste it.


	7. Prompt 24 - Waffle

The Twilight Twenty-Five

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Prompt: 24. Waffle

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count:1584

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><p><strong>AN: big thanks as (nearly) always to Bigblueboat and TiramiSue84. Go read their entries too!**

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><p>The German Christmas market has already been here four days, and I've managed to visit on three of them. I don't care that some of the traders are starting to recognise me and give me curious looks. I'm trying not to think about the fact that in a week or so it'll all pack up back to Germany.<p>

Yesterday, I saw the man who works at her stall give her a teasing nudge as he saw me approaching. He said something to her I didn't understand in what sounded like German and laughed, before coming up to the counter to take my order. I'm sure I wasn't just imagining that it was about me. She stayed back, by the waffle iron, but I could see that she was blushing. She glanced at me, ever so briefly, before looking down shyly and getting back to her work. At that moment, she looked like some character out of one of those Brontë adaptations my ex used to make me watch on TV. She was the picture of modesty in a demure, pastel coloured flowery dress, with her dark brown hair pinned up in pigtails on either side of her head. Maybe she was playing up to the part for the tourists at the market, but still, she looked totally the opposite of my normal type — brash, blond and busty.

I've resolved that tonight is the night. I have to try and talk to her — or ask him if need be.

I haven't heard her speak much, and when she does it's only in German — and unfortunately, I don't speak a word of it. I've always thought German sounded rather ugly, though in her soft voice, it's not so bad. The man speaks English well, though with quite a strong accent. Perhaps she doesn't speak any? Otherwise, wouldn't she be serving customers sometimes too?

I don't even bother to look at any other stalls this time. I have to take the bull by the horns and do this. There's really nothing to lose, apart from maybe my pride, but by New Year's, I'll never see these people again. Which may turn out to be a good thing.

I walk up to the waffle stall, which is actually more of a wooden cabin, and I'm hit by the familiar, comforting smell of sugary dough cooking. Luckily, I haven't got fed up of it yet.

For once, she's in the front of the cabin. She leans on the counter, looking at me expectantly. For a moment, I can't think what to say. I decide to start with the basics.

"What's your name?"

A confused look crosses her face. I don't want to resort to using the guy as an interpreter or repeating myself patronisingly slowly.

I'm not sure how much it'll help, but I decide to try another tactic. I find a pen in my pocket and take a paper napkin from the counter. She watches as I write down my question as neatly as I can. I hand it to her.

She seems to recognise enough to answer but is frowning in concentration.

"I — Bella. How … and you?"

Her accent is as cute as the rest of her.

"I'm Edward." I smile, completely helpless to resist her. "Pleased to meet you, Bella."

She smiles back easily.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" I ask and then immediately curse myself for jumping straight in like that. Wow, what an idiot.

Luckily for me, her English skills may have hit their limit. She says something in German, but that's equally lost on me.

I can see the frustration in her expression. Mine must look similar.

"No. She doesn't have one," comes the guy's clipped, accented voice from behind her. I'm torn between being totally humiliated and jumping for joy. Life's too short, so I decide to go with the latter, although not too literally.

"Thank you!"

He winks at me and does a little bow. "Happy to be of service."

"Can you ask her … could you ask Bella whether she's free for a drink later? After her shift?"

I've noticed — because I'm that much of a stalker — that she usually swaps with another girl at 10 pm, and it's coming up to 9.30.

He turns to Bella and asks her for me.

My heart does a little jump when she smiles upon hearing the question.

I may not speak German, but even I know "_ja_"_. _It's followed by a few other words, but I think I'm in there. I look to waffle guy just to be sure.

"Yes, she will have a drink with you. Come by in half an hour when she will finish."

I put my hand out to shake his hand, not caring what he thinks of me. I give Bella a little wave, and call, "See you at 10 then!"

I walk off, grinning so much that's it starts to hurt.

The "date" is spent at an outdoor bar area elsewhere in the market. I point to the blackboard listing several types of Glühwein, and try to pronounce the German for the one with apple. She's kind enough not to laugh and orders drinks for us in German, though I'm sure the stall-holders would have tried their best. They ladle the hot wine out into decorated ceramic mugs for us. She opens her purse to pay.

"No, let me get that for you," I say.

She carries on looking for the appropriate coins. I'm not sure if she's feigning not understanding, so I push her hand with the purse in it down gently to make sure.

"I insist. I'll pay." I whip out a tenner from my pocket and hand it to the amused market worker before Bella can beat me to it. The charge is a little extra per drink, as a deposit for the mugs, which we could return later if we wanted, but I'm definitely keeping mine as a souvenir of tonight.

We sit at a little wooden bench and table. Once we get past the first few minutes, both of us relax more. It isn't as awkward as I'd expected, despite the language barrier. Though I have to be more inventive to keep the 'conversation' going. I do some bad impressions — famous actors, which I think are mostly recognisable anywhere. I'm not afraid to make a fool of myself for a good cause — or a pretty woman — and her contagious smile eggs me on.

We're enjoying ourselves so much that buying a second round seems only natural. The pleasant buzz I feel from the first drink makes me relax enough to allow Bella to buy them this time. She looks confused handling the unfamiliar pounds and pence, so I step in to help her figure out which coins she needs to pay.

She chooses my drink for me this time: a darker coloured hot wine with berries floating on the top. It tastes delicious. I say so and make universal 'mmm' noises to illustrate my words.

When we sit down again, I take out a tenner from my wallet and lay it flat on the table to make some folds through the Queen's face.

This trick's a little bit lame, but the others I know involve beer bottles and we don't have those to hand.

"Here's a happy Queen, and here's a sad Queen," I say, tilting it with the face towards her, first upwards and then downwards.

She giggles. I'm not sure whether she likes it or if she's laughing at my strange attempts to amuse her, but I like the result either way.

I suddenly recall something else a friend once showed me with a banknote. I iron out the creases I've just made and start some more complicated ones. It takes a little trial and error to remember exactly how to do it, but soon I've made a pretty neat heart shape out of the note. I hold it in two hands over my chest and then present it to Bella, in what I hope is a romantic gesture.

She takes it from me and studies it for a moment, smiling and raising her eyes to me before placing it carefully back onto the table.

Maybe she wasn't sure how to react to that. To dispel any awkwardness, I stand up and start doing my best robot dance. I move around in a small circle, jerking my arms and legs abruptly, uninhibitedly. She laughs. I carry on for a little bit, acting as if I can't see her reaction, and that makes her laugh more hysterically. I sit down again, unable to keep a straight face any longer. I feel so happy seeing her lovely smile and how relaxed she seems with me now.

I don't try to teach her any English words or get more out of her than she's comfortable to try. Maybe this will come later if I get to see her again. For now, I'm happy just to be breaking the ice and having fun. We can enjoy one another's company even with so few words.

As we finally say our goodbyes, I'm only thinking of the near future, of seeing her tomorrow. Thinking any further ahead would spoil my good mood. I want to savour my time with her like I'm eating one of her waffles; I don't want to spend it worrying about the crumbs I'll be left with at the end.


	8. Prompt 03 - Banned

The Twilight Twenty-Five

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Prompt: 03. Banned

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 100

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><p><strong>AN: thank you to Bigblueboat! :)**

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><p>My mother had warned me about his type. She thinks writers are floaters and dreamers, not husband material. What she had heard about him in the press only confirmed her suspicions.<p>

Edward Cullen. The trial over his so-called obscene novel had made him a household name. Even now that I knew him personally, his name held a delicious danger for me. His writing had opened my mind up to pleasures I hadn't known existed. His critics seemed afraid that so much passion could exist on the page.

Tonight, I was going to ask him to show me in the flesh.


	9. Prompt 11 - Forbidden

The Twilight Twenty-Five

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Prompt: 12. Forbidden

Main Character: Edward

Rating: M

Word Count: 100

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><p><strong>Thank you to my amazing beta, Bigblueboat, and to TiramiSue84 for her encouraging comments. :)<strong>

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><p>I see him in the morning. Those precious moments somewhere between sleep and reality are the only time I can enjoy the sight of his beautiful face, his young, lithe figure, without guilt spreading over me like an ink stain.<p>

I try not to let my stare linger on him in class. But he's there licking his soft lips unaware of what he's doing to me, and I can only take so much. I can't stop thinking about him. Knowing he's strictly off-limits only makes me want him more badly. _I'm his teacher, for fuck's sake. What's wrong with me?_


	10. Prompt 10 - Fabricate

The Twilight Twenty-Five

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Prompt: 10. Fabricate

Main Character: Edward

Rating: M

Word Count: 477

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><p><strong>AN: thank you to Bigblueboat for betaing.**

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><p>Detective Cullen grabbed the back of his chair as if needing to anchor himself on hearing the news. He raised one hand and pointed an angry finger at his colleague. "You assured me we'd never find the real culprit." He went to lower his blinds slightly. The office door was already shut.<p>

"That was my belief at the time," McCarty said, holding his hands up defensively.

"We had it all sewn up," Cullen said, starting to doubt his words. "Fuck! We got the conviction. The case has been closed for five years." He was grabbing at the ends of his reddish hair now, feeling panic setting in.

"It was … until some hotshot new guy came across evidence linking his perp for another case to the Mallory killing."

"It seemed like we were doing the right thing at the time. James Hunter never would've gone down for anything otherwise. He was too slippery, always had an alibi. We had to nail that murdering cocksucker." He knew it didn't excuse what they'd done. The Hunter case was the only time he'd personally been involved in fabricating evidence, and if it came out now, his career could be over. "It was the one time. The only time!"

"I know, man. I don't know what to say."

"Do you have any bright ideas how to save our asses?"

"One or two. It might involve … some of the evidence _disappearing_. As long as it doesn't lead back to us, I don't care if they clear Hunter. At least he's served some time and been kept off the streets until now."

"Yeah, I guess."

Cullen had stuck strictly to the straight and narrow since his promotion, and he hated the idea of having to risk treading that old, more questionable, path again. But equally, he couldn't stand the idea of a guilty man going free, even for the sake of his career.

"I really don't like it, but we need to cover ourselves. If we can't come up with any other way … and the real killer deserves justice."

"I'll look into where the evidence is being stored … if it still is, that is."

"Good. Let me know if there's something I can do, and keep me updated."

"Of course. Sorry to ruin your morning with this."

"That's okay." He didn't _feel _okay. "At least we got wind of this before it was too late."

"Don't worry, Cullen. This will all work out somehow."

McCarty had the knack of always seeming laid-back, even if his mind was actually working overtime. Cullen didn't blame his colleague for this mess; though McCarty had coerced him into the idea, he was a grown man and was responsible for his own decisions. He'd wanted to lock up Hunter just as badly.

McCarty slapped him on the back and let himself out, leaving Cullen to his thoughts.


	11. Prompt 25 - Worthless

The Twilight Twenty-Five

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Prompt: 25. Worthless

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 498

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><p><strong>AN: as ever, I have my beta, Bigblueboat to thank for polishing this. :)**

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><p>'<em>Worthless'<em>: one of the words Edward had used to describe himself in last session's task.

Such a negative self-image wasn't uncommon amongst men in their twenties, but every case was individual.

Edward's current situation wasn't exactly rosy. He'd been made redundant six months ago and was still out of work. His girlfriend had left him shortly afterwards. But depression was caused by a chemical unbalance in the brain, no matter the circumstances that triggered it. Someone of a different disposition in the same circumstances might not be knocked down so completely.

Today, I was trying to work with Edward to identify the positives in his life. I wanted to underline that he _was _valued by people around him. He just needed to work through these setbacks.

"Yes, Dr. Swan, my mum and dad care about me … so does my sister. But they're family; they don't count."

"You think that they only appreciate you because you're related? You sound very close. Not every family can say that."

"Hmm, maybe."

"So they think you're a good son, a good brother."

"Yes, I suppose so."

_And they'd miss you if you were gone._ I didn't say this, but hopefully I was planting the seed in his mind.

"I want you to write down what you think your best qualities are. Perhaps what your family would say about you, if you can't think of any yourself. Take your time."

I picked up a half-finished journal article to read. At first, the sounds of pen on paper were few and far between, but after I'd read a few paragraphs, he seemed to be making some progress.

I put the journal down. "Do you have some listed?"

"Yeah … um … a good listener, maybe. I may have mucked up _my _life, but I think I'm pretty patient when it comes to hearing Alice's problems." He smiled.

"That's good," I said. "Anything else?"

"Er … " He looked down, shaking his head, as if mentally discounting everything.

"Read what you wrote, even if it seems silly."

"Okay. I was a hard worker. Until I lost my job." He sounded more sad than bitter.

"You lost it because they had to make cuts, not because of anything you'd done, remember. Anything else?"

"I'm kind. I think my family and friends would say that."

"Great. Some very positive attributes. Perhaps you can think of two more for next time? With examples, if you can think of any."

He folded the paper and put it in his pocket. "Okay, I'll see what I can do. Thank you."

I opened up my diary to make an appointment for next week. However slowly, we were definitely making progress.

"You're doing really well. Take care of yourself, and remember what we discussed about negative thoughts. Try to counter them with an alternative view before they take hold."

"Will do. See you next week." He managed a small smile as he left: something he never would have done a month ago.


	12. Prompt 19 - Pristine

The Twilight Twenty-Five

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Prompt: 19. Pristine

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 100

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><p><strong>AN: thanks to Bigblueboat and TiramiSue84.**

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><p>I unfold the dress from the yellowed tissue paper. It's pure white and untouched. I still feel a little of its magic each time I take it out. Of course the style is a decade out of date, with its surfeit of lace and its length. It reflects a pre-war decadence that has only recently started to make a reappearance.<p>

I hug it to my breast, treasuring the memories of my lost Edward and indulging in thoughts of what might have been. My parents wanted me to get engaged again, but I have yet to meet another man his equal.


	13. Prompt 21 - Shattered

The Twilight Twenty-Five

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Prompt: 21. Shattered

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 100

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><p><strong>AN: thank you to Bigblueboat for betaing!**

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><p>I'm exhausted from all the shouting and crying I've done in the last few weeks. I've gone from suspicion to blame and finally to the stage I'm at now, white-hot anger.<p>

"There is no coming back from this," I say, my voice shaking. It rises to a scream. "You slept with someone else!"

I throw the photo frame to the floor. The glass shatters. Appropriately, the splinters all seem to point their jagged edges towards Edward in the photo. He's looking at me lovingly in the picture, but the shards of glass know very well who the guilty party is.


	14. Prompt 23 - Tryst

The Twilight Twenty-Five

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Prompt: 23. Tryst

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 100

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><p><strong>AN: thank you to my beta, Bigblueboat.**

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><p>I creep out of the house, unnoticed. By now, I know every creaky stair and how to close the front door without being heard.<p>

I smile secretly to myself. I'm off to meet my sweetheart. My father's disapproval of his family and their class makes an open courtship impossible. Rather than seedy, this secrecy makes our meetings all the more precious. Our relationship is able to grow naturally, unpressured by society.

Our love is like a rare flower that can only bloom on an uninhabited island. It needs just the right conditions to survive and can only do so undisturbed.


	15. Prompt 09 - Exposed

The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: 09. Exposed

Main Character: Edward

Rating: M

Word Count: 1100

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><p><strong>BN: Just a cheeky little something to brighten up your Friday. Thanks to Bigblueboat for betaing, and to TiramiSue84 for pre-reading and general support!**

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><p>Our relationship is very much a learning curve for me. Edward's so adventurous sexually, and I wasn't at all when I first met him. Over the past year, we've built up our mutual trust, and I've found myself wanting to push my boundaries, daring to try new things. Of course, it's partly to please him, but I wouldn't do it if I didn't get enjoyment out of it too. He would never force me into anything, though he enjoys challenging me.<p>

I feel safe with him, and his enthusiasm and gentle encouragement boost my courage. I'm willing to try most of the things he suggests at least once, as well as a few of my own ideas. He says the things we're trying are just as new to him because though he's done some of them before, it wasn't with me. I don't ask him what he's done previously.

I still have limits, fears. For instance, I hope a threesome isn't on his list. It hasn't come up yet, but I don't want to think about him with another woman, let alone see it. Although in another year, who knows. I've already tried so much I'd never imagined myself doing.

Today's challenge is exposure. It was his idea, but we talked about it, and I decided that it was something I was interested to try. We have something in mind, a small yet risqué starting point. He's assured me that it's totally up to me whether to go through with it, and if we'll take it any further.

We've come to a nightclub. Not a sex-club, but an establishment with somewhat more flexible standards than the norm. Partial nudity is not uncommon here, he tells me.

I've worn an indecently short skirt and skimpy top in preparation. That's all that covers my body; I'm not wearing anything under the skirt, and I have no bra on either.

I feel wanton as I carefully step out of the cab and take Edward's hand to enter the club. The cool night air makes me keenly aware of how little I'm wearing. I don't even have a coat on. The bouncers are leering at me as it is, and a thrill runs through me, imagining the look on their faces if the wind was to blow my skirt up and reveal all. I'm nervous, but also, unexpectedly, deliciously aroused.

We order drinks as soon as we enter the club. It's crowded, but I can see no evidence of the nudity Edward mentioned.

He gestures for me to sit on a bar stool, and I carefully do so, tucking the skirt underneath my bum and crossing my uncovered legs. I can feel the cold wood through the thin scrap of material. I hope I'm not leaving traces of my arousal on it. I down my vodka shot.

I'm glad of a little Dutch courage when we get up to dance. For one whole song, that's all we do. I don't forget what we're here for, but I start to relax slightly.

A minute into the next song, Edward brushes his hand against my cheek and leans in to whisper, "Do you feel ready, love?"

"Yes," I say, quietly, my voice trembling slightly. I can feel myself blushing.

Edward puts his hand on my shoulder to reassure me.

"Only if you're certain. Remember, it's your call how far we take this. Just what we discussed or more?"

I don't think I can do any more — at least not this time. For now, this is daunting enough for me, but I feel in the right mood and in the right company to try it.

"Only what we said."

He nods subtly, and then kisses me gently. He moves a step away from me, and starts to sway his body in time with the song again. He moves freely, confidently.

He slides one hand down from where it was resting on the small of my back to cup my bum over the tiny pleated skirt. It rests there for a moment, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. Him grabbing me publicly like that hasn't caused any reaction, making me feel braver.

He moves down and under the skirt, meeting my flesh. His palm's warm against my skin, and the brief connection feels electric. His hand whips the material up, away from my body. The movement of air leaves me in no doubt that my naked rear is exposed to anyone looking. He holds the back of my skirt firmly against my lower back, still swaying to the music as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

My heart is pounding. I glance around, feeling that mixture of fear and excitement that I did outside the club. Edward was right: it seems that the club-goers aren't easily shocked. A handful of people — of both sexes — are staring, and I hear a wolf-whistle, but most of them soon turn away again and don't seem overly surprised. I relax to the point where I'm purely enjoying the sensuality of the moment — the pleasure on Edward's face, and my own little taste of exhibitionism. I even sway a little, wiggling my bum for anyone still watching. I like the feeling more than I'd expected, but still feel no pressure to take things further; I'm not ready for full-frontal.

"You're so sexy," Edward says, leaning in to kiss me passionately. He publicly caresses my naked curves before letting the skirt fall back down to just about cover me.

The remainder of the night passes without drama, but I've shaken some of my inhibitions and I am enjoying this new sense of freedom. I'm sure that people are looking at me with a newfound respect, as if I've just mastered a secret handshake and become the newest member of an elite club. I feel grateful that I trusted Edward to take me on this adventure, and I wonder what the next one might entail.

I can't wait to get him home again; our public encounter has made me more than ready to indulge in a night of private passion. From the things he's whispering to me in the taxi, I'm in no doubt Edward feels the same. Given how easily my body can be accessed tonight, I'm a little surprised he manages to keep his hands off me for the journey. The mere knowledge of my state of undress and the memory of my few moments in the spotlight are enough to drive both of us wild, so I'm sure tonight will be worth the wait.


	16. Prompt 01 - Ancient

The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: 01. Ancient

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 1624

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><p><strong>AN: thank you to my beta, Bigblueboat. I really appreciate your feedback!**

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><p>The excavation site came into view through the jeep's passenger window. A group of twenty or so people were gathered on the sand, some talking, others crouched down to work on uncovering sections of the structure that was still taking shape from out of the dunes.<p>

Rose was stood looking at some papers with Jasper, another of Edward's research assistants. The blonde woman stood out from the group, and not only because she was the only female. Even dressed in plain cotton trousers and a blouse, she seemed to add a touch of glamour to proceedings. Maybe it was her blond hair, or the elegant way she carried herself. If he'd had to name the most glamourous period in history, it would have been the twenties, but that period held no appeal for him … with the notable exceptions of Howard Carter and the mental image of Rose in a little flapper dress.

If only he were a few years younger. He took his eyes off the blonde beauty and thought back to the reason he was here. Today could be the big day. He hadn't liked to leave the site, but there had been paperwork and research funding communications piling up at his temporary Luxor office. He'd left his team under strict instructions to call him if there was any progress, trusting them with the job in hand. This morning's call hadn't been the first this week, but he was just happy progress was being made.

A few days' wait was nothing compared to the years it had taken them, him, to get this far. Excitement swirled within him, every bit as fresh as it had been on his first day setting foot in Egypt as a young graduate.

He got out of the jeep. Rose, hearing the door slam, spotted him and smiled.

"Professor!" she said, once he got close enough. "Sorry to bother you again, but it was looking pretty hopeful this time."

"It's no problem, _really_." Edward batted away her apologies with one hand. "I didn't want to risk missing anything. Have you made any progress?"

"Yes! It's mixed news, I'm afraid. The guys have finished clearing the rubble blocking the next door, however the seal on it was broken. And hastily so. Looks like grave robbers got here first, though perhaps historical ones … possibly even from ancient times, since it was so well concealed, and there was no local knowledge of the site's existence."

Edward sighed. "OK then. We knew this might be the case. The main entrance looked as if it had been tampered with as well. We may not find any objects of value left in the tomb, but there could be wall-paintings or some evidence to confirm its historical significance. We didn't come here looking for treasure."

"You're right. I hope we'll find what you're hoping for."

"We may not find anything at all today, unless this door leads to the burial chamber. Though at least that does seem probable, judging by the layout of other high-ranking tombs from the era we suspect this to date to."

"The only thing to do is to have a look." Rose handed the Professor a torch. "We waited until you got here so you could be the first … it seemed only right."

"Thank you, Rose. Here goes!"

She and a handful of colleagues followed as he entered the rectangular doorway carved into the off-white stone. The recently excavated corridor was dimly-lit by small, portable lamps. He pointed his torch straight ahead and led the others down the corridor, hunching slightly because of the low ceiling.

He reached some stone steps. These hadn't yet been uncovered fully on his last visit. He marvelled as each step took him closer to a sacred site that had probably laid undiscovered, untouched, for thousands of years. Even if the tomb had been raided more recently than that, it wasn't known to today's Egyptologists, so this could be an important discovery. Despite knowing it was mostly his own hard work that had made it possible, Edward felt immensely privileged to be here.

He lifted his torch to point at the door, moving the beam about until he saw the broken seal, at about waist height. The two stone portions of the door were separated by a few inches.

"Perhaps the robbers tried to pull the doors back to cover their tracks, but were interrupted," he said.

"Or the stone wouldn't move back easily. Check out the seal," said Jasper, his voice echoing strangely from further back in the passageway.

Edward turned up the beam of his torch and inspected it. Rope was coiled multiple times around a copper handle on the left-hand stone door, and hung down, where once it would have joined the two door panels. He put on his white cotton gloves and delicately lifted the hanging rope to get a look at the fragment of clay seal that was still attached. It had a picture and some hieroglyphs carved or stamped into it.

"I've got the rest here," Jasper said.

Edward turned to take it from him carefully and held it up to complete the seal. "Amazing that it broke into just the two pieces. Where did you find it?"

"Just on the steps. Thankfully, it survived with little damage."

Edward traced the depiction of the familiar jackal-headed god in profile. "Anubis, for protection," he said, almost under his breath, aware that the others knew this. He continued somewhat louder. "And the writing appears to be some sort of spell or incantation to protect the tomb from robbers, although I'd have to study that further to be sure. Fascinating." His calm voice hid the excitement that was building inside.

Jasper, even having had time to process what he'd seen, showed no such restraint. "Prof! This is _exactly _the type of seal seen in other high-ranking tombs of the Eighteenth Dynasty! Wouldn't you agree?"

Edward smiled to himself. "It does seem to be consistent with others of the era, yes."

"That's promising. It may sound silly, but it still amazes me how well rope is preserved by the desert air," Rose admitted.

"It's not silly," Edward said, nodding. "The rope, and this clay too. That's something that sets Egyptian finds apart from other antiquities. We can uncover textile or wooden artefacts that appear almost untouched by time."

"So, let's look inside," Jasper said. "Want some help?"

"Yes, please."

Jasper gestured, and another, more burly member of the team came forward to help. The professor moved aside, and the two men forced the stone doors apart, widening the gap to a couple of feet.

"Et voilà!" Jasper said with satisfaction, barely out of breath.

"Thank you very much," Edward said, as they stepped down from the top step to allow him through.

He felt as if there should have been dramatic, filmic music playing as he crossed the threshold. Instead, there was only silence. Everyone on the team seemed to be holding their breath.

The spotlight of his torch immediately connected with something colourful. Colourful and flecked with gold. He whistled. These were wall paintings of a quality and detail that he'd never encountered in person before.

"Wow!" That was Rose.

"We've found the burial chamber. We need some more light in here. Get some lamps set up. And bring more torches until we have those." Edward barked out orders, and team members scurried away to follow them.

"This is amazing," Rose said, as Edward illuminated different portions of the wall. The beam was powerful enough that quite a large radius was visible at any one time. He moved it around the chamber. There was some pottery in one corner, perhaps canopic jars, and a few small items elsewhere, but nothing larger.

"There's no sarcophagus left then, and probably no items of value," he summarised. "But the area is so large. It was almost certainly built for a high-ranking owner."

"A pharaoh, even?" Rose asked.

"That's the million dollar question," said Jasper.

"For royalty, possibly, but let's not get ahead of ourselves," Edward responded.

Once the chamber was better lit, Edward and some of his colleagues began to study the murals more closely.

"These are wonderful," Rose said, as she walked around admiring them. "Is this the tomb owner?" she asked, standing at Edward's side to look at the tableaux depicting a man going through various stages of the afterlife.

"I think so. Notice the headdress and the staff he's carrying in this one." He pointed to the leftmost picture.

Rose took in a sharp breath, but he was the first to say it.

"It is indeed a pharaoh. _Our_ pharaoh." He pointed to a line of hieroglyphs, containing a vertical cartouche, used to denote a name. "Set-ka-re," he read.

"Just as you hoped! You were right all along, Professor! Congratulations."

For five years, Edward had been working on the theory that Setkare's missing burial site might lie somewhere in this area of Luxor, and not in the Valley of the Kings, as previous Egyptologists had assumed. He had worked patiently to gather evidence and information on the little-known pharaoh, until he could gather the requisite funding to amass the tools and manpower to actually look for it. In the early years, even his own team had doubted his theory, but as time went on, mutual trust had grown. Now, finally, he could justify their belief in him.

There was a lot work ahead of them, cataloguing the finds and studying the wall writings. But that would be a joy to him. They already had clear evidence of the tomb owner. This was what he'd been working for every day since he'd arrived here, and the sense of achievement was immense.


	17. Prompt 12 - Forgotten

The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: 12. Forgotten

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 444

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><p><strong>AN: thank you to my beta, Bigblueboat and prereader, TiramiSue84.**

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><p>Grandad used to be full of interesting stories. At some point this year, maybe six months ago, I'd noticed he'd started hesitating as he told them. At first, his pauses were brief, and then he'd smile and continue as if nothing had happened.<p>

With time, it got worse. One moment he'd be happily chattering away, painting a verbal picture of a country he'd visited or an encounter he'd had, and the next he seemed lost, confused. On the worst days, he didn't know where he was or who I was. I slowly got used to it, but it never stopped being upsetting.

I knew some of the stories well enough to fill in the gaps for him, and that would usually jog his memory. But I hated seeing him like that. I'd never before thought of Grandad as being frail, but in those moments of forgetfulness he seemed to lose his spark, and I saw him for the vulnerable, thin, old man he was becoming.

My mum had seen it too. On the advice of his doctor, we each tried to do things with him that would trigger his memories and keep them fresh while it was still possible. Looking at old photos was one of the most powerful. He had his wedding photo in a decorative frame on the mantlepiece, and I'd get that down for him, never tiring of looking at the black and white photo of him and Grandma when they were young. They looked so happy.

He hadn't yet forgotten Grandma's name — Bella — even though it'd been five years since she'd passed away. He'd started asking where she was though: Had she just gone out to the shops for some milk? Would she be back soon? I knew this was especially upsetting for my mum — both to see him like this and to be reminded of her mother.

Depending on his mood, I'd reassure him that Grandma would be back soon or gently remind him that she'd gone. If it was the latter, I'd ask him about her to try and keep things positive. I'd ask to hear how they met or what she was like when she was younger. He'd start off sadly, sometimes needing some prompting, but soon we'd both be laughing and smiling at his memories.

I knew his dementia would get worse, but the important thing was that he still had quality of life. He still found enjoyment in simple things: being read to, listening to the radio, talking to family and friends. I was determined to help him prolong his memory for as long as possible and make the best of things.


	18. Prompt 20 - Serendipity

The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: 20. Serendipity

Main Character: Edward

Rating: M

Word Count: 489

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><p><strong>AN: huge thanks to Bigblueboat for betaing this.**

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><p>My morning had got worse by the minute. My car wouldn't start. I didn't want to wait in for the breakdown company, so I decided I'd get the bus.<p>

I made it just in time. During the journey, the heavens had opened, and with the dark sky and heavy rain, it had been almost impossible to see where I was. The bus's windows were steamed up with condensation. The driver had his windscreen wiper going at top speed, but they were laughably ineffective against the water pelting down on the glass. I'd thought I'd recognised my stop, but once I'd got off it had been an unfamiliar street; I didn't know the bus route all that well.

I didn't have an umbrella, and the stop had no shelter — I was going to get soaked. The heavy drops almost hurt when they touched my skin. I pulled my coat tightly around myself.

I decided to keep walking, hopefully to the next stop. It might keep me warm, and maybe the next one had a shelter. I was pretty sure it was too far to walk to work from here; I'd need to wait for the next bus and travel a few more stops. If only my smartphone hadn't died last month.

I wasn't really concentrating on what was around me. Suddenly, I was hit by a huge splash of dirty water as a car passed through the puddles in the road. As if I wasn't wet enough already, now my trousers were soaked through.

"Have some consideration, you fucking bastard!" I shouted after the driver. I knew he couldn't hear me, but it made me feel slightly better.

I tried to wring out the wet material of my jeans, but all that was doing was creasing them. Denim sticking to my cold legs, I began to walk again, cursing this day.

I got to the next bus stop. There was a shelter! And another person waiting.

The man smiled at me, showing his perfectly white teeth, but I thought I detected amusement as his glance made it to my wet jeans, so I think my own expression was more of a grimace.

"Horrible day, isn't it?" he said, ignoring my clear _leave me alone _signals. "Proper nasty."

"You can say that again."

"Proper nasty!" He looked so smug that I wanted to punch him.

_A comedian, just what I need_. I perched my bum precariously on the narrow metal seat of the shelter, as far from him as I could, and folded my arms across my chest.

On the bus, I made sure to sit away from him.

But first impressions aren't always accurate. That nightmare morning seemed almost funny in retrospect, and when I met him again by chance the next week, it gave us something in common. He turned out to be good company once I was in a better mood, and we've been friends ever since.


	19. Prompt 17 - Limit

The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: 17. Limit

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 100

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><p><strong>AN: thanks to my beta, Bigblueboat for all her encouragement!**

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><p>"You'll never walk again."<p>

I laid in bed for weeks, letting despair swallow me whole.

One day, I was helped outside in a wheelchair. The sound of birdsong and the feel of the sun on my skin reminded me life was precious.

My first physiotherapy session was frustrating and painful, but it offered a glimmer of hope.

I read about a paraplegic former sportsman who'd walked a marathon on crutches — over many days. Through mental strength and determination, he'd achieved something seemingly impossible.

But I had to start small. I set my goal at ten steps down the hospital corridor.


	20. Prompt 18 - Mist

The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: 18. Mist

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 394

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><p><strong>AN: thanks to Bigblueboat for betaing and sticking with me throughout this challenge :)**

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><p>I've walked home this way before, but tonight I feel uneasy. It's dusk, so the light is fading, and patches of fog make visibility even worse. I'm getting the distinct feeling that someone's following me.<p>

I tell myself I'm being ridiculous, but I can't shake the idea. I begin to walk faster, checking behind myself and getting increasingly nervous. I wish I'd taken the car.

I reach the narrow path that means I'm almost home. Relief is quickly replaced by fear when I hear drunken laughter and then see three young men standing metres in front of me. I either have to pass them or turn back. They're leering at me and making obscene gestures.

"Well hello, darling! Come and join us. Let me see those tits," the middle one slurs. The others laugh and one grabs the air with his hands, rocking his hips salaciously.

Suddenly from my left, comes a hissing sound and then a primal growl. A tall man steps out of the fog. I can't see the detail of his face, but his skin is pale, and he's younger than the others. It is hard to believe that he could've made those sounds, but the men look towards him in fear. With one last look at one another, they flee, running right past me.

The fog clears slightly, and I can see his face lit up by the streetlamp. His features are strong yet all in proportion. He has such dark eyes.

Maybe I should be afraid of him too, but he's saved me from the other men, and he doesn't seem any threat to me. In fact, I feel strangely drawn to him.

"Sorry if I scared you. But those men ... they were thinking bad things about you. They were going to hurt you."

I am entranced by his melodic voice and his beauty. So much so, I don't question his words. I should thank him, but I can't seem to speak.

"I'll see you home, but then I must go."

_Don't go!_

He walks me home, staying one step behind — although he seems to know the way. I don't ask how.

"Goodbye," he says softly as we reach my driveway. He reaches out as if to hold my hand, but doesn't touch it.

"No!" I finally find my voice, but he's already disappeared back into the mist.


	21. Prompt 16 - Kingdom

The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: 16. Kingdom

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 100

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><p><strong>AN: I've surprised myself by getting close to achieving the challenge! The support from my beta, Bigblueboat, has been a huge help. As has my (frequent) pre-reader, TiramiSue84. And you're supporting me more than you know by reading these. :) Thank you!**

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><p>We arrive on horseback. In contrast to the day I left here, my entourage is undisguised and openly carries my royal standard, its gold thread glinting in the sun. I left in a hurry, fearing for my life— something a boy of eleven should not have to experience, not even a prince.<p>

The castle turrets rise up majestically from within the city walls. They are perhaps not as massive as I had remembered, but they are impressive nonetheless.

I feel great pride surveying this, my kingdom, and satisfaction that my supporters have helped me to reclaim what is rightfully mine.


	22. Prompt 22 - Treasure

The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: 22. Treasure

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 100

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><p><strong>AN: thanks to my lovely team: beta, Bigblueboat and pre-reader TiramiSue84.**

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><p>I've cried and complained so much over the past few months. The tiredness and morning sickness have left me feeling washed out.<p>

Perhaps I've taken things for granted. I suppose it was hard sometimes to see us as lucky. Luck would be being able to make a baby without medical intervention.

But seeing the tiny person moving on the screen and feeling kicks as we watch puts things back into perspective.

Edward squeezes my hand as the technician points out a little hand, a mouth, a nose. The look of wonder and pride on his face makes my heart sing.


	23. Prompt 14 - Innocence

The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: 14. Innocence

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 100

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><p><strong>AN: thank you to TiramiSue84 for prereading!**

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><p>I look up at the colourful shapes moving above me. I can still see quite well because the light is on just outside my bedroom. Last week, I tried to be a big boy and go to sleep in the dark, but I was too worried about the monsters. At first, I couldn't sleep at all, and then I had a bad dream. It was horrible.<p>

Mummy didn't mind. She said I was a brave boy to try.

I can hear her and Daddy talking quietly downstairs; it makes me feel safer. I yawn. My eyes are beginning to close.


	24. Prompt 15 - Insidious

The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: 15. Insidious

Main Character: Edward

Rating: M

Word Count: 1507

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks to TiramiSue84, who pre-read and helped a lot with some issues I was having with this.**

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><p>It helped that my family was in the habit of moving states every few years. Attending a new high school each time we started afresh allowed me to make new acquaintances without my reputation preceding me. In fact, if I wanted to, I could invent a whole new persona each time. Hundreds of years could get boring otherwise.<p>

At my last school, I went for the popular, cheerleader types. They were good-looking and easy, and for the most part very willing in bed. However, they were generally in the habit of sharing gossip with their girlfriends, so news of my taste for rough sex and refusal to commit spread fast. I wasn't refused very often, but no doubt the rumours were to blame when I was.

I rarely got to taste a high school girl's blood, let alone kill one _—_ it was too risky. Preying on someone outside of town, with no family if possible, was usually the only safe option, though killing a conquest was so much more satisfying than just sex. On a few occasions, when graduation approached, I allowed myself the luxury. Once, I planned prom night so carefully that I was able to fuck my date before drinking from her and killing her.

She'd agreed to come back to my house with little persuasion, and I knew our family was leaving town the next morning. We'd soon have a new identity. With the exception of my father, Carlisle, my family didn't judge me for bringing prey home _—_ as long as it wasn't too frequent and I was careful not to expose our secret. Carlisle was still in his 'vegetarian' phase, but I knew if I kept out of his way and did the deed quietly, he wouldn't interfere.

I hadn't slept with this girl before, but luckily she liked it rough almost as much as I did. She remained eager, making all these breathy noises, even when I had her pinned down and was pounding her relentlessly from behind. I didn't want to risk trying to bite her until the end though, just in case she got freaked out and tried to run. The other advantage in waiting was that the oxytocin still in her blood heightened the flavour once I did get to taste her. I'd turned her around so that I could see her eyes; I got such a thrill from seeing her post-coital bliss turn into pure terror. I couldn't have stopped drinking even if I'd wanted to. Which I didn't.

This summer, I found myself craving a new challenge, a different type of prey. I wanted to deflower a virgin. I told myself that I'd leave this one alive though. I'd have ruined her enough by the time I'd finished with her.

Ensnaring the innocent required cunning, stealth and patience. The same skills I employed when hunting. It was an interesting proposition.

I made sure to keep a much lower profile than I had at my last school while I appraised the females in my year, but nobody quite fitted the bill. There were virgins, sure, but they somehow weren't the fantasy I'd envisioned. That was until I switched one of my classes and found the perfect target. I'd somehow never noticed her in school before.

This girl hung around with the quiet, studious types, but there was something about her that set her apart from them. For one thing, she was attractive, though she hid it well with unflattering, thick-rimmed glasses and shapeless clothes. I also found her harder to read than other girls, though I was reasonably sure she was sexually inexperienced, and perhaps hadn't even dated before. She showed little interest in the opposite sex.

She was definitely what I was looking for; I was getting desperate to have her. In my fantasies, even those fucking ugly glasses started to turn me on. That's how the nickname Glasses stuck even once I'd found out her real name, though of course I'd never use it to her aloud.

I didn't believe she would be too hard to win over, but I knew that to do it properly would take a different approach from the girls I'd been with before. I had great confidence in my skills to charm women, but I would need to seem respectful and caring in this case as well.

I had some concept of what a good girl might want in a man from books and films, but such gentlemanly behaviour didn't come naturally to me, so I felt the need to supplement my knowledge with more involved research. I started to listen to the thoughts of better-behaved males at my school: devoted boyfriends. It turned out some of these were acting the part as much as I would be, though not always as effectively as I hoped to. One of them, a jock type, was prone to outbursts of anger _— _occasionally becoming physical — with his girlfriend, which confused her greatly because he was so good to her most of the time. I knew from his thoughts that he didn't really care for her; he just enjoyed the idea of having a girlfriend and the regular sex that came with it. She, on the other hand, loved him and believed he felt the same. She covered for his violence and his temper to her friends, and made excuses to herself why she couldn't leave him. I knew I was no angel, but I found it hard to understand why she put up with him. Human love was something I'd never understand.

My preparations went on for a couple of weeks, leaving me a month until graduation. I was sure

winning Glasses' trust would take some groundwork, some cultivation; she wouldn't sleep with a man on the first date. Perhaps even a month was optimistic, but that's all I had.

I bribed another student to switch desks with me in Biology, so that Glasses and I would get put together as lab partners. Through my many repeats of the subject over the years, as well as my natural intellect, I was able to impress her with my knowledge. That broke the ice, and we were soon talking about other things. After the first few meetings, I made sure to get to class slightly early so that I could pull her chair out for her to sit down when she arrived. I held the door open for her when we left the classroom and always offered to carry her bags. She seemed bemused by my old-fashioned behaviour, but I think she was flattered. I didn't do these things for any of the other girls.

I asked her a lot about herself to show an interest, yet when it came to myself, I tried to generate a slight air of mystery. I supplied just enough details _— _fictitious or embellished if necessary _— _so as not to be rude, before turning the topic back onto her or more general conversation.

Talking about her was in my self-interest too. I needed to find out what I could about how she ticked before I made my move. She wasn't only hard to read … her thoughts were completely impenetrable to me. For the most part, human thoughts were so inane that I preferred to block them out, except when they could assist with my plans. But with her, even when I concentrated as hard as I could, I got nothing. That frustrated and fascinated me in equal measure. It wasn't that I believed her thoughts would be any less frivolous than other girls of her age, only that it made the task of trying to get into her panties that much harder. As a result, I was even more desperate to have her.

I'd only planned to fuck her, buta thought had crept into my head and was refusing to leave: perhaps tasting her blood might allow me to read her mind. It seemed a possibility, though I didn't know if it worked like that because this mental block had never happened to me before. Overcoming it was becoming as much of a challenge to me as bedding the girl. The main question there was whether I'd be able to stop myself from drinking once I tasted her.

Otherwise, I was confident my plans were going well; I was almost convincing _myself _with this act. The more I repeated those chivalrous actions or my way of speaking to Glasses, the easier it got to keep up the pretence. It didn't quite become second nature, but a lot of my public life was already a pretence by necessity; I had to hide my true nature from humans. So this wasn't that much of a stretch for me.

It was a good thing I'd developed such patience over the decades. I was eager, but it was important to take things slowly. I wanted her trust before I fucked her, and fucked her up. It needed to be Bella's choice to let me into her bed.

I liked it this far, but I'm not sure if a sex with Bella scene will ruin it or is unnecessary here. I suppose maybe a (gentlemanly) date or two… ugh! That would be quite a lot to write too. Hopefully I'm getting the Insidious across OK with this, but I'm not sure how to round it off. I suppose Edward would need to carry on being callous/unfeeling - get what he wants and then abandon her, to see the prompt through to the end. If I cut it off too soon you could imagine "oh, maybe she'll melt his heart and he isn't as bad as he seems", which isn't what will happen! Thanks so much for any thoughts :)

— Okay, i think this plot works well with the prompt. I think what I would do is rewrite this some/rearrange the order, so that he talks about this new prey he's got his eyes on, but it's only revealed in the last paragraph that it's really Bella. That way, you save yourself the time and effort to write more, and with this story already being 1,4k, it would still be set to go even after the cutting/editing.

Wow, didn't think of this at all! Nice side-step. (I'm not keen on the extra work I thought it needed :p) You think it would make it fit the prompt because it's her? And because of the way he's acting anyway. So the other girl (he killed) I could leave the reader unsure if that was B? I'll have to reread with this in mind and see how I could change things. I like the reveal idea.


	25. Prompt 08 - Dishevelled

The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: 08. Disheveled

Main Character: Edward

Rating: T

Word Count: 4150

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><p><strong>AN: being the last prompt, this turned into a bit of a late one (and the longest yet). It's unbetaed, so I hope it reads OK.**

**A big thank you to my little team for most of the prompts, Bigblueboat and TiramiSue84, to the TT25 organisers for running this year's challenge, and most of all, to you for reading! :) Enjoy.**

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><p>London, England, 1840<p>

I am meeting some important business associates next week, so I have made plans to ensure I am dressed in the latest attire. Appearance is just as important as what one has to say in these fashionable times. Some of the pieces must be made to measure, so I have set aside the morning for these rather tiresome errands.

My tailor, Dobkins, is measuring me up for a waistcoat and trousers in the latest style. I'm relieved when he's all finished; it feels like it has been hours. I make arrangements to return for a fitting of the finished garment in a few days' time, and go towards the door to pick my coat off the coat-stand. I put it on and am about to open the shop door, when the tailor tuts loudly enough that I can hear it, clearing his throat for good measure. I turn around to see what the matter is.

"Forgive me Sir, but may I make one final suggestion?" He looks unsure.

"Go ahead, man," I say.

He bustles over to me, his grey whiskers twitching as he huffs and puffs.

"It seems to me that it may be advisable to allow for a new morning coat in addition. This season's lapels are pointed, rather than stepped," he says, handling the offending lapels on my current garment. "Wearing this over a new suit would detract from your investment, and would not give the proper formality to your appearance."

I consider asking if he could alter my current one, but I would rather not leave it behind in this brisk weather, and money is not so very tight.

"Fine. But can you measure for the morning coat on Wednesday?" I've spent quite enough time here already today.

"Yes, of course, Sir, of course." He's bowing in deference.

"Very good. Thank you Dobkins."

I leave the shop, and decide to go to the milliner's next. I always find visits there quite pleasant, for some reason.

It's not far to walk, and I still have my rather last-season coat on, so I decide there is no need to take a Hansom cab. Though it is cold, it isn't raining. I walk quickly down the cobble-stoned streets, holding my head high so as not to catch the eye of any beggars or miscreants. It is a fairly respectable area, but few streets are completely free of them. On some days, a thick industrial fog descends on London, and it is easier for pickpockets and the like to travel unseen. Those are the days I am glad of the cabs.

I recognise the familiar white _Charles Swan & Co. _sign above the milliner's shop, and push open the door. Unusually, Mr. Swan's daughter is behind the counter instead of her father. I've seen the girl before, but she normally only comes onto the shop floor to fetch materials or take orders from her father before disappearing into the back room again. There doesn't seem to be any male chaperone with her. It's also odd that I'm the only customer.

I attempt to conceal my surprise, and take off my hat ceremoniously, while considering what to say. It seems more courteous to get straight to business. I do not know the family well enough to ask about her father's absence, although I'm curious.

"Good day, Miss Swan, I believe?"

"That's correct. Good day, Mr. Cullen. How can I help you?"

She remembers my name! I'm sure it's been at least two months since I was last here, and I'm not even sure I saw her that day.

"Yes, I er …" I clear my throat, momentarily at a loss for words. I remember what I needed. "I need a new top hat. An elegant one, top of the range."

"Of course, Sir!" She looks pleased. "What were you thinking of? I'm afraid we have a slightly reduced stock at the moment, but I have some examples here in the window, and there are certain models in the catalogue that I … _we _would be able to make for you with a slight delay. We've got some problems with suppliers."

I've never heard her say so many words at a time. She is softly spoken, but sounds quite well-educated, considering her class. I've never really thought about it before, but I suppose the Swans are not even middle-class. Though working in a skilled trade, they are perhaps better-off than many others nominally of the same working-class station.

I allow her to guide me to the hats in the window, but I catch myself studying her more closely than the merchandise. I hadn't noticed until I was standing this close to her, but it seems to me that Miss Swan has changed since I last saw her. Her brown hair, usually worn in neat ringlets, and tied on each side, is dishevelled, as if she has slept in it for a few nights without freshly styling it. Wild strands escape the ringlets. Her dress looks ever so slightly dirty, and I see a rip in her puffed sleeve. Their circumstances never allowed for the Swans to be finely dressed, but this lack of attention to detail strikes me as out of character.

I take my eyes off the young woman, chiding myself for my impropriety in letting my gaze linger on her.

I quickly pick a hat, so that it appears that I have been considering my options. "How about this one? I do require something very current, though, and I'm sure you have a better idea than I what would fit the bill."

"In that case, perhaps the taller one would suit." She picks one up from its stand and hands it to me for inspection. "It's still finished in the smart beaver fur felt, and hand-sewn, of course. I'd recommend it in black, like this one."

I nod. "Very well, one of those, please. I need it before next Tuesday. Will that be possible?"

"Yes, of course." She walks back to the counter and gets out a bound accounts book from a shelf behind it. She flips through a few pages until she reaches the right one.

"I have your measurements here, Sir. I can have the hat ready for you on Monday, if that is convenient?"

"That would be ideal."

"Very well." She writes down details of my order carefully in the book. I'm impressed that her father has taught her how to read and write.

When I return to pick up the hat, Miss Swan appears to have the same dress on as on my last visit. I know for sure when I spot the rip on the sleeve. Her face looks increasingly gaunt.

Perhaps it is improper, but I have to say something. "Forgive me Miss Swan, please do not hesitate to tell me if I am intruding. But is your father well? I can't help but notice he is not here, and that he was not here on my last visit. And to be frank, you do not look well."

Miss Swan looks shocked, and I immediately feel dreadful for the invasion. I put my hand on my breast and bow my head slightly. "I apologise. I meant no disrespect. I —"

"No, it's — it's all right," she says, her voice shaking a little. "Papa … my papa's in some trouble at the moment, and I have to mind the shop while he is gone."

"Oh. I am very sorry to hear that." I wish I could ask what sort of trouble, but I feel I've already pried enough. However, I do ask, "You don't have any other family to help you? It's just you?"

"Yes, just me," she says sadly.

"It must be difficult on your own. Please don't hesitate to let me know if there is anything I can do." I can't help but make the offer, although I'm not sure how I could assist her.

She looks surprised and it takes her a few moments to respond. "Thank you, Mr. Cullen. That's most kind of you. Please give me a moment. Your top hat is ready — I'll just fetch it for you."

She disappears from behind the counter into the back room, perhaps needing an excuse to settle her nerves.

I try to remind myself not to pry further into her business, but I can't fight the concern I feel.

She returns with the hat, coming around the counter and showing me to a full-length mirror for me to try it on. It fits perfectly, and complements my new morning coat, which I have put on for the occasion. The suit is back at home. I turn to admire myself from different angles, and then take off the hat as is polite indoors.

I turn back to her, noticing she has been watching me.

"I'm very pleased with the hat — thank you! You have done a fine job making it. I'm sure people will be asking where I got it, and I won't hesitate in recommending your business to them."

She smiles weakly, and I feel glad that perhaps this is something I can do: send some trade her way. She seems to need it. The shop has been quiet again today, with just one lady and gentleman browsing the goods, and they left earlier on, empty-handed.

"If you feel satisfied enough to do so, it would certainly be appreciated." She hesitates, perhaps deciding whether to tell me more, and then adds, "Although I fear we may not be open much longer."

"What? Why?" I know I sound abrupt, but I'm concerned to hear this.

"My father's creditors will send the bailiffs … he is in debt, you see. If I don't start making some regular money soon, we'll have to give up the lease to pay his … I'm sorry, Sir, I've already said too much. I shouldn't be unburdening myself on you like this — it's not your concern."

"No! Miss Swan. You can tell me. In fact, I _insist_ you tell me." I know I am probably being too forceful with a young woman of — what, perhaps only eighteen years old? But there seems not to be anyone else that she can turn to, and I feel it is my duty at least to find out what the situation is.

"He's been put in Marshalsea."

The name rings a bell. I think for a minute and remember that I have read about the place in the newspaper. I speak gently, knowing the delicacy of the matter. "The debtors' prison?"

She nods, looking down, ashamed. "He can't pay the weekly fees, so he isn't allowed to leave and work here during the day like some of the others can. I visit when I can. Actually, I might have to move into the prison too, if we can't afford to keep paying the rent on our room above the shop."

"You'd live in the prison?" I ask, slightly shocked. I'd read about the terrible conditions in some of these places. I don't follow politics in any great detail, but I understand there has been some debate recently about what purpose they serve in discouraging debt, if any. People are locked up in order to stop them from escaping their creditors, but are often unable to ever fully repay their dues, and sink further and further into debt.

"My only other choice will be out on the streets," she says, bluntly.

It is bad enough for her father, but she is much too young to be worrying about business and money. Those things are not natural for a woman. And to think of her living in a dirty, corrupt prison!

"There must be something that can be done. I could write to some of your father's creditors. Assure them that I will cover his debts …"

"No!" Miss Swan looks aghast. "My father has too much pride to take any charity, much less from one of his loyal clients. I'm sure of it."

"I apologise once again. I didn't mean to offend you. Well then … perhaps I could help procure a lawyer, or write a character reference to the prison authorities." I feel desperate to help somehow.

"No lawyer. We can't afford that. But the letter, perhaps … I suppose it couldn't hurt. If you are really willing to do that for us?"

My curiosity gets the better of me. "Miss Swan … do you mind if I call you by your name? What is your name?"

"Isabella ... Bella." She colours pink. Very pretty.

"And you must call me Edward. Bella, of course I'll write this letter for your father. I don't want to see you join him in this prison, stuck in horrible conditions and struggling to get by."

"I don't know how I can thank you. But truly, thank you for your kindness, Sir —" she makes shy eye contact with me, her brown eyelashes fluttering gently — "I mean _Edward_."

I like the sound of my name on her lips so much. I chide myself for thinking like this. I want to help her out of respect for her father and because she is young and vulnerable and should not be left to fend for herself in this difficult situation.

"I promise you I'll do what I can," I say, resolving to think of something more I can do.

"Thank you." So much is conveyed in those two small words.

I insist on settling the bill immediately by cash, even though she assures me a cheque would do. It is the least I can do.

She stands with her hands neatly clasped in front of her dress, watching me leave the shop.

My business meeting the next day goes smoothly, though I feel rather distracted. I'm pleased to find out that one of my associates has a link with someone in the legal profession, and I decide to risk asking if he will put me in touch with his connection.

The man, Jenks, is just as slippery as I had expected of his profession. It proves no easy task to pin him down for a meeting, but after a few days of enquiring daily at his offices, I manage to do so.

I arrange to meet him in a smoking bar instead of his office.

"Let me get this clear. You do not wish to engage me for my services, Mr. Cullen?" Jenks asks, tapping his pipe. "Why should I waste any further time speaking to you?"

"I do not intend to currently, although it may prove necessary in the future. Naturally, I will pay for your time at the usual rates. I need your expertise in something."

Jenks is in less of a hurry after my mention of money. I explain the Swans' predicament. He is able to answer most of my questions about the prison and the legalities of debt.

"So you think this fourteen day rule is Mr. Swan's best chance of freedom?" I ask.

"Indeed. As I have told you, if he can swear that his debts do not amount to more than £20*, then after fourteen days, he has the right to request release, under the Insolvency Act. His debtor may either come to some arrangement over his dues, or he can refuse Mr. Swan's release. I would advise you that this procedure is preferable and less complex than trying to prove bankruptcy."

"Thank you, Mr. Jenks. It sounds like I need to visit Mr. Swan at Marshalsea and find out how much money he actually owes, and to whom."

"Exactly."

I pay for a Hansom cab back to take us back to Jenks' office and pay a deposit to start an account with him; I'm not sure at this stage whether I might indeed need him to represent Mr. Swan.

The next day, I contact the prison to arrange a visit. I'm surprised at how easy it is to do.

I had prepared myself for unpleasant conditions, but I'm still shocked by the stink and the dirty, cramped living conditions inside Marshalsea. After only a few minutes, I see a rat scuttling down the corridor. The cells are small, mostly holding one or two occupants — I learn that those with money can pay 'chummage', a weekly fee to their assigned cellmate, to dispense of them and obtain a cell to themselves. But in some cases living quarters are more crowded; it shocks me to see women and children living in amongst the prisoners. Some men have moved in their whole families, crowding them into a space intended for three men at most. Family members can come and go, but the warden tells me that in many cases this is so that they can work outside the prison to earn the fees they're required to pay for their lodging here.

A woman comes out of one cell. She's adjusting her dress. Her hair's long and loose down her back. From her appearance, my first thought is that she's a gypsy or a fortune teller, and then I realise that she is more than likely in the world's oldest profession. A lady of the night, right here in the daytime. I cast my eyes down to the floor, trying not to let anyone see them lingering on her. I believe I've seen such women in the streets, but it shocks me more to see one casually leaving a prison cell.

We turn a corner. The warden shows me to Mr. Swan's unlocked cell and leaves me there.

The object of my visit recognises me instantly. He is, as must be expected, shocked to see me, but I suppose he is in no position to refuse an offer of help.

He quickly stands. "Mr. Cullen!"

"Mr. Swan. Are you well?" I fear he is not; his face is noticeably thinner than the last time I saw him.

"I … how did you find out I was here?" He seems embarrassed. I think I can detect a slight blush colouring the skin above his thick moustache. Maybe he's where Bella gets her blushing from. His voice is gruff. "I'm fine, I suppose. As far as I can be in a place like this."

"I heard word about you from a business associate." It doesn't sound convincing, but I don't want to bring Bella into it.

"Oh," he says, surprised. "So word has got out, then." He sits down on his bed, forgetting civility, and puts his head in his hands.

I give him a moment.

He looks up again. "I apologise, Mr. Cullen. I'm not sure why you're here, but this is my problem, and only mine."

"I've heard about these places, and now I've seen it for myself, the last thing I want is for Be— your daughter to end up here with you. I know that's what ends up happening, especially if there is no other family to take her in. I admit … I've been into the shop and seen that she's there alone. She told me there is no one else. I couldn't live with myself if I saw her forced to come and live here."

Mr. Swan's face falls. "That's my very fear," he admits.

"Then I beg you, let me help you."

He reluctantly answers my questions. His story is promising: his main debt is to one supplier, and is less than the maximum sum in the legal ruling Jenks told me about. During his case at the local magistrates' court, he either wasn't told of this technicality, or he didn't understand its implications. Before he can get his hopes up too much, I caution him that his freedom is unfortunately entirely dependent upon his creditor's assent.

I promise him I'll return the next day, after finding out the best way to proceed. Mr. Swan agrees that I can do that, but says, like Bella had, that he cannot afford lawyers and would not hear of me paying one for him.

Jenks, however, strongly advises me to employ him as Swan's legal representative. According to him, a settlement agreement with the creditor for Swan's release will be much more fraught if the negotiations are not carried out in the most careful manner.

I agree to enlist his services, despite Mr. Swan's reservations. I brief him as far as I'm able.

Mr. Swan — Charles, as he tells me I may call him — is friendly when I return.

But when he learns that I've made legal arrangements on his behalf, contrary to his express wishes, his temper flares.

"I _cannot _get myself further into debt to you over these legal fees. Even before I was in trouble, I doubt I could have afforded them. You've put me in an impossible situation, Mr. Cullen. I'm an honest man. I want to pay my dues and not rely on charity. I appreciate that you're trying to help, but it is against all of my principles."

"I'm very sorry, Charles, that I've made you feel like that. But I feel myself in an equally impossible situation. I respect you as a fellow business owner, and I feel it would be wrong to let your circumstances, or those of your family, get any worse without at least trying to help."

He thinks for a while, clearly torn. "I would have to repay you. In time. I don't know how this insolvency thing will work … whether I'll have to work until I can repay the supplier or whether they'll reduce my debt. Either way, it'll be a long time before I can get back on my feet again and repay you. If this lawyer of yours gets me out, that is. Oh, I just don't know..."

"He says you've got a good chance. It has to be worth trying." It feels like emotional blackmail, but I'm desperate. "Think of your dear Bella."

It sways him. "Very well, but you must give me your word that you'll allow me to repay you in full, eventually. Either through money or through a percentage of my profits, perhaps, once my original debt is cleared."

"I can ask Jenks to draw up an agreement after your release, if it would make you feel better. Or …" I've just had an idea, and I decide to bring it up, though I'm unsure how wise that is. "There is one other possibility."

"What's that?" Charles raises his eyebrows in suspicion.

"I have been thinking a lot since I last spoke to your daughter. She's young, but she has a good head on her shoulders, and she is a very charming young woman."

Charles' frown dares me to continue.

I do, before I lose the nerve. "It occurred to me that if we were family … if I were to ask you for her hand, and she were to agree of course, our financial dealings might be somewhat different. Between family members, agreements need not be as strict … the time frame could be flexible, for instance. Or I might waive part of the debt as a goodwill gesture." I don't actually expect him to repay me at all, but I know I have to keep his pride in mind.

Charles expels air loudly and goes red-faced, but doesn't start shouting at me.

I'm emboldened enough to continue, needing to express my train of thought and explain myself. It had seemed so neat in my mind. "I do not wish to sound unromantic ... I would not suggest it if I wasn't genuinely fond of your daughter. I hold her in a very high regard, and it just seemed to me that this could solve each of our problems. Your daughter would be well provided for and cared for, and you would be able to concentrate on a single debt and on rebuilding your business."

"You genuinely care for my Bella?" I think his eyes have softened a little.

"I do, I give you my word."

"As you say, Bella would need to accept you herself. I would never force her to marry, especially in these circumstances. She's not a business deal to be made."

"No, of course not, Mr. Swan."

"And, there is the matter of the dowry. I can't pay you that right away as is normal."

"I understand that, of course. It's something we can discuss in future, but as things stand, I don't expect one. I just want to make your daughter happy, if she'll let me."

"In that case … I consent for you to ask for her hand."

I congratulate myself on the risk I took in asking this almost out of the blue. Bella is a beautiful young woman, and will surely make a kind and doting wife to someone one day. I pray that I am the lucky man.

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><p>* equivalent to about £900 or $1400 in today's money.<p>

**A/N: thanks to those who put me on alert or reviewed. It all helped encourage me to finish this year's challenge! I hope you enjoyed reading my attempts.**


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